### Chapter 6: The Tipping Point “You worthless fool!” Natasha’s voice was a thunderclap in the tense air, her fury boiling over as she seized Dr. Jansen by the collar, practically lifting him off his feet. “I instructed you not to remove the needles! Look at what you’ve done! Now that the worst has come to pass, this is all you have to say?” “No! This isn’t my fault!” Dr. Jansen protested vehemently, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the gravity of the situation. “It has to be that other healer’s doing! His needles must’ve triggered this catastrophe!” With a burning rage coursing through her veins, Natasha took swift action. Her palm met his cheek in a resounding slap. “Enough with your blame-shifting, you coward! Mark my words—if anything happens to my grandfather, I will hunt you down!” Dr. Jansen turned pale at her threat. The Harmon family was a force to be reckoned with, capable of silencing him before he could even scream for help. “What’s going on?” Just then, Dustin burst through the door, and his eyes widened at the sight of Andrew’s frail body lying upon the bed. “Didn’t I tell you not to remove the needles?” Displeasure etched on his features. “Why wouldn’t you listen?” “Mr. Rhys, I was—” But before Natasha could finish her sentence, Dr. Jansen lunged forward, gripping Dustin by the collar, his face twisted with accusation. “So, you’re the one who placed those needles?” he bellowed, indignation spilling from his words. “It’s your reckless needling that has put Old Mr. Harmon in peril! You are to blame for this situation!” Dustin arched an eyebrow, unperturbed. “Am I to understand you removed the needles? Just curious—how did you even become a doctor with those skills?” “You—” “Enough!” Natasha intervened, shoving Dr. Jansen aside with a strength that illuminated her desperation. She turned to Dustin, her plea palpable. “Mr. Rhys, please! We are out of time! My grandfather needs your help!” “He’s nothing more than a fraud,” Dr. Jansen spat, his anger palpable as he shot daggers at Dustin. “Do not fall for his tricks!” “If he can’t help, then you should step up,” Natasha challenged, her eyes fierce. “I…” Dr. Jansen faltered under her piercing gaze. He knew he was cornered; if he had the skills to save Andrew, he would’ve acted long ago. As Dustin prepared to start his procedure, Dr. Jansen’s voice cut through the air again, a thinly veiled threat lacing his tone. “A word of caution, young man. Old Mr. Harmon is a man of considerable influence. If you fail, be prepared to face the consequences.” “Then I won’t be proceeding,” Dustin replied coldly, turning on his heel, a desire to escape this toxic atmosphere surging through him. But Natasha was quick to grab his hand. “Damn you! Don’t walk away!” Natasha’s rage erupted again, this time directed at Dr. Jansen, her palm cracking against his face with renewed force. The impact made him stagger, his eyes widening in shock at the stinging pain. Seeing Dr. Jansen’s swollen cheek brought a small, satisfied smirk to Dustin’s lips, though he quickly masked it with an impassive expression. “Please, Mr. Rhys,” Natasha’s tone swiftly shifted to one of urgency, her desperation etched into the creases of her brow. “If you save my grandfather, the Harmon family will owe you a debt beyond measure.” “I can’t promise it will be straightforward,” Dustin replied somberly. “The toxin has worsened—it’s become more aggressive. Acupuncture alone won’t suffice. I’ll need additional resources.” “Name it, and I’ll get it,” Natasha insisted, determination igniting her voice. Dustin took a deep breath, calculating his next words. “I’ll need a quarter pound of caterpillars, a quarter pound of spiders, and a quarter pound of cockroaches. They must be fried and sealed in an airtight container.” “Ugh! Why on earth would you need those?” Ruth exclaimed, her face contorting in utter disgust. “Quit your whining and fetch them!” Natasha commanded, her impatience cutting through the tension. With a reluctant sigh, Ruth disappeared from the room, flanked by her bodyguards on a mission that none of them wanted to tackle. The room held its breath until their return, and soon they were back, a container filled with the fried insects in hand. “Ms. Harmon,” Dustin directed, his tone serious, “once I’ve completed the acupuncture, please open this container and place it in front of your grandfather’s nose and mouth.” “Understood!” Natasha nodded, determination brightening her features. “Let’s begin.” With a steady hand, Dustin extracted his silver needles, taking a moment to center himself as he prepared to delve into the intricate work ahead. He carefully inserted the first needle into Andrew’s lower abdomen, breathing deeply, allowing his energy to flow through the needle and into his patient. He followed quickly with a second needle, placing it slightly above the first, each movement deliberate and confident. Three more needles joined the first two in a precise arrangement, a straight line emanating from his first placement. Yet, this was not mere acupuncture; Dustin employed the long-lost technique of Miracle Needling, a procedure that could bring one back from the brink of death—only if the practitioner possessed the internal power to do so. The effort drained him, a last-resort lifeline he could only turn to in emergencies. “Ms. Harmon, the container,” he reminded her, the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead testifying to his focus. Natasha sprang into action, opening the container with urgency. A potent, foul odor engulfed the room, slithering through the air and reaching Andrew’s unconscious form. “Oh, that’s disgusting!” Dr. Jansen scoffed, disdain coloring his words. “Do you honestly believe that some needles and fried insects can save a dying man?” “Just because you don’t have the ability, doesn’t mean others cannot,” Dustin shot back, unyielding. “I’ll eat this container of insects if you succeed!” Dr. Jansen countered, his bravado on full display. Just as the words left his mouth, an unbelievable spectacle unfurled. Andrew, after days of silence, finally opened his mouth and a black centipede crawled forth, its slimy body wriggling into view. Drawn by the scent of the fried insects, it slithered into the container and began voraciously munching. “A centipede? Is that really a centipede?” “Oh my god, a centipede came out of old Mr. Harmon’s mouth!” “Eew!” Gasps echoed around the room as the realization struck like a bolt of lightning. Faces morphed in horror, Ruth lost her composure, the sight of the grotesque creature forcing her to retch. This was a scene lifted straight from the darkest corners of nightmares. Then, a cacophonous cough erupted from Andrew’s throat, and in that moment, he opened his eyes, the spark of life flickering back into his gaze. The room stood frozen in shock, the tension palpable—the miracle was unfolding before their very eyes.